


Prescription Passion

by letterfromtrenwith



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, hospital au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letterfromtrenwith/pseuds/letterfromtrenwith
Summary: The Carolight Hospital AU we've always wanted.Dr Dwight Enys, coming home from several years abroad, takes a job in the A&E dept of St Neot’s hospital in Truro, not intending to be completely knocked for six by meeting a certain lovely dermatologist - Dr Caroline Penvenen.





	1. Chapter 1

_Maternity Ward_

“How in the Hell – “ Dwight glared at the blue plastic sign above the double swing doors, as if staring at it hard enough might change it into something that made sense. While he’d admittedly only been working here a week, he couldn’t fathom how anybody found their way around this hospital. It was like a bloody labyrinth. Although that was all relative considering that the last hospital he’d worked in had essentially been three wooden huts stuck together. The St. Neot’s Infirmary was something else altogether.

Technically, his shift was over for today, but since the A&E dept. was currently running a little understaffed he was still on call until late that evening, before having 48 hours off. He had been planning on going home, since his flat wasn’t too far way to make getting back in an emergency unworkable, and he still had some serious unpacking to do. However, what he’d intended to be a quick trip to the HR department to swap his temporary staff card for a permanent one – hideous passport photo and all – had turned into a trip down the rabbit hole.

Blessedly, he knew someone in the maternity unit who would be able to give him directions. Verity Poldark was a senior midwife at St Neot’s, and had been the one to suggest Dwight apply for a job there. He’d met her when he was at medical school with her cousin, Ross, and she’d been a trainee at the university’s teaching hospital.

Verity was standing at the nurse’s station when he went in, looking harassed, her hair coming loose from its pins. It didn’t really look like the time to bother her – maybe he could ask someone else – but she managed a smile when she saw him.

“Hi, Dwight. What brings you here?”

“Being horribly lost, I’m afraid. I was going to ask if you could show me the way but I’ve obviously caught you at a busy time.” The whiteboard behind the desk showed that four o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday was apparently a popular time to be in labour.

“No, it’s – “ Before Verity could finish her sentence, the doors swung open again behind Dwight, and Verity looked behind him, breaking into a much wider smile of what seemed like relief.

“George! Thank God!” Dwight turned to find that George was a fair-haired man of about the same age as him.

“Somebody call for an anaesthetist?”

“GET ME THE FUCKING DRUGS!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” George passed by Dwight without a second glance, heading into the room where the shout had emanated from. Verity made to follow him, but stopped.

“Are you doing anything at the minute, Dwight?”

“Er, no, not really.”

“Want to come and help deliver a very angry lady’s twins?” Dwight thought for a minute; about the pile of boxes he had to unpack and the papers from his aunt’s solicitor he still had to read.

“You know, I would.” 

~

Dwight suppressed a yawn as he signed off on yet another patient form – a 14 year old boy who’d suffered an asthma attack during a PE lesson; he would fine, but Dwight had strongly advised him that it probably wasn’t the best idea to leave his inhaler on his bedside table when he was going to be playing rugby.

This morning had been a complete whirlwind. Five minutes after he’d clocked on, four victims of a car accident had been rushed in, all of whom needed stabilising before surgery; and then an 89-year-old woman with Alzheimer’s who was incredibly distressed after a fall at her care home; two workmen who’d sustained mild burns after a piece of equipment had caught fire. On and on and on they’d come. Friday was often a busy day in A & E – no Saturday night, but it could get chaotic. Just before the 14 year old boy, Dwight had seen a time of death pronounced on an overdose case, so he wasn’t feeling his best.

His 48 hours off hadn’t given him much rest, in the end, although he had collapsed face down on his bed first thing on Wednesday morning after Mrs Teague’s 12 hour-labour, which had ended in the arrival of boy and girl twins, seemingly hale and hearty.

Unlike most of the British hospitals Dwight had worked in, St Neot’s actually had a pretty decent canteen, and he thought a ham salad baguette and packet of posh crisps would hit the spot.

“Dwight! Over here!” Verity waved at him from the corner, and he weaved his way between tables occupied by a mix of uniform clad nurses, doctors in scrubs and patients with dressing gowns over their hospital nighties – the odd one with a drip. He hoped none of them were skipping out on ‘nil by mouth’ orders.

“Hi, Verity. Hello.” Verity was sitting with George, the anaesthetist from Tuesday night, and another woman who’d also been at the delivery. In the chaos, Dwight had never got her name, but he’d gathered she was the on-call obstetrician. She was very pretty, with short, dark brown hair and soft features; her smile was wide and friendly, her eyes warm. Dwight could imagine her being a soothing presence for nervous mothers-to-be. Today, she’d swapped her scrubs for a smart sleeveless blouse, her glasses tucked into the neck.

“Didn’t get a chance to introduce you all properly the other night.” Verity smiled. “Dr Dwight Enys, this is Dr George Warleggan and Dr Elizabeth Warleggan.”

“I assume that’s not a coincidence?” Dwight sat, putting down his tray to exchange handshakes with the other two, who smiled at each other in a way which made their connection rather obvious.

“No. They’re our resident lovebirds.” Verity grinned and Elizabeth shook her head.

“Thank you for your help the other night, by the way.”

“How is Mrs Teague? And the babies?”

“Mmm,” Elizabeth took a pull on the straw of her drink. “All well. They were discharged yesterday – we kept the twins for observation since they both had low blood pressure, but they were right as rain after 24 hours or so.”

“Mrs Teague seemed very…overwhelmed by the experience.”

“Ha! I’ll say.” Verity shook her head. “It takes women lots of ways but, Ruth…”

“All that screaming…” Elizabeth sighed. “And for such a straightforward delivery, especially for twins. I blame TV, you know. People see all those histrionics and they think that’s how it should be.”

“Says the woman who gave me a black eye when she was giving birth!” George cried and Elizabeth gave a dramatic sigh, looking up in an exaggerated appeal to the heavens.

“That was an accident!” She looked at Dwight. “I reached out for his hand during a particularly hard contraction and he happened to be bending forward at the same time…”

“That’s her story!” Dwight laughed. This was obviously a well-worn argument, and he couldn’t help but smile at the obvious affection between the two of them.  He hadn’t got a proper look at George the other night – after administering the epidural he’d only needed to monitor Mrs Teague for a short while before the delivery team could take over, and then he’d been called away for a surgical procedure. Blue-eyed and fine-featured, he certainly made a handsome match with Elizabeth.

“So, how many children do you have?” Dwight asked.

“Two.” Elizabeth picked up her phone, scrolling through before handing it to him. The picture showed an adorable little boy of about three, with dark springy curls, peering curiously at a tiny light-haired baby. “Valentine, he’s nearly four now, and Ursula, she’s just turned one.”

“ – “ They obviously sensed his surprise at the unusual names, and Dwight was briefly afraid he’d offended them, but George smiled.  

“Valentine was born on Valentine’s day, and Ursula was Elizabeth’s great-aunt, she died just before the baby was born. Also, there’s surprisingly little that goes with ‘Warleggan’.”

They chatted more as they ate, Dwight telling them a little about his time with Medicines sans Frontieres – although nothing about why he’d joined the organisation in the first place; even Verity didn’t know the full details there, and he certainly wasn’t ready to talk about it with strangers, even ones as nice as these. He did explain that he’d come home to Cornwall to take care of his Aunt’s estate, and that Verity had persuaded him to join the staff at St Neot’s.

“She’s the best recruiter this place has got!” Elizabeth laughed. “She got her brother here, too. And Demelza!”

Dwight had known Francis for a while, too, although not as well as the other Poldarks – he’d gone to a different uni, and practiced in Scotland for a few years. He was now a consultant ophthalmologist at St.Neot’s – the only one, actually.

“Demelza?” He’d met an awful lot of people since arriving at the hospital a couple of weeks ago, but he couldn’t remember her. He was sure he’d remember someone with such an unusual name.

“One of the hospital pharmacists.” Verity explained. “I met her at a yoga class, and she told me she wanted a change from her old job…”

“I think Dr. Martin said we were short a few A & E nurses if you fancy taking that on?” Verity elbowed him and he laughed. Suddenly, there was a beeping noise, and all four of them rummaged in their pockets.

“It’s me. Emergency surgery. Nice to meet you, Dwight.” With a quick kiss for Elizabeth, George was gone, his wife smiling after him.

“Aww…” Verity cooed.

“Shut up.” Elizabeth said primly, fighting a grin.  

“No, I love it. You give this sad singleton hope for true love.” Verity sighed with exaggerated dreaminess, and Elizabeth snorted. After a moment, Dwight became aware of someone standing behind him, just as Elizabeth smiled widely.

“Caroline! Here, meet the new A & E registrar I told you about. Dwight, this is Dr Caroline Penvenen.” Dwight turned to greet the new arrival, and found himself completely lost for words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline’s not sure she’s made a good first impression on Dr Enys, nor exactly what impression he’s making on her.

“Caroline Penvenen.” Caroline grabbed the phone on her desk, the light on the console indicating an internal line, from Austell ward.

“Caroline, it’s Emma.”

“Hi, Emma, what can I do for you?” Emma Tregirls was a junior ward sister in the post-surgical unit; an excellent nurse with a wonderful bedside manner, she was popular with patients and colleagues alike.

“I was wondering if you could come up and see Mrs. Trevanion? She’s developed a rash at her wound site. It just looks like some irritation from the dressing, but she’s a bit concerned, and she keeps asking to see you.” Mrs Trevanion had had a fairly routine Mohs surgery for skin cancer. This was often an outpatient procedure, but she’d been kept in for a couple of days as she also had a blood disorder which could be affected by the anticoagulents used during the procedure. Caroline had only assisted with the actual surgery, being just two years into her specialist dermatology training, but she’d been the first person to diagnose Mrs Trevanion and had been her chief physician throughout her treatment. If Emma was right about the rash – and she likely was – any doctor on the ward could have checked it out, but patients liked continuity.

“I’ve got a patient in about ten minutes, but it’s just a progress check, so I can probably be up within the hour, is that okay?”

“That’ll be great, thanks, Caroline.”

Her next patient was a 12 year old girl, Sally, who suffered from quite severe dermatitis. Caroline had been seeing her for about a year as they tried to find the right treatment for her. It could be an unpleasant condition for anyone, but for a young girl like Sally, at an emotional stage of life, surrounded by typically cruel fellow children, it was especially awful. At their last appointment, Caroline had suggested a new moisturising regimen and prescribed a new type of immunosuppressant, since Sally was too young for the more common steroid treatment.

“Caroline, look!” Sally practically burst into the treatment room, pulling up her jumper and t-shirt to show Caroline her almost blemish free stomach.

“Oh, Sally, that’s wonderful!” The previously red-raw and irritated skin was now merely a touch flaky.

“She hasn’t had a flare up in two months!” Sally’s mother, Kate, beamed. “We really can’t thank you enough.”

“It was just a matter of finding the right treatment,” Caroline said. “The condition often eases throughout adolescence, so there‘s a good chance it just needs kept under control for a while.”

“And then I’ll have skin as beautiful as yours.” Sally smiled, and Caroline couldn’t help but return it.

After that, she might have had just a small spring her step when she headed up to the surgical ward. Emma was indeed correct about Mrs Trevanion’s rash, and the old woman was quite happy with the topical cream Caroline recommended.

She stopped at one of the coffee machines on the way back to her office. The cheap instant Nescafe wasn’t the best, but it was too long a walk down to the Starbucks in the hospital’s main lobby, and she would need a bit of a caffeine boost. Her next few appointments were private cosmetic patients, who weren’t always the most enjoyable, even if she knew she shouldn’t complain, considering the extra income they brought both her and St Neot’s. Besides, if people wanted that sort of treatment, she’d rather they came to her and her medical colleagues than to the unregulated beauty parlours which now often offered them. She’d seen far too many botched botox injections and reactions to badly done chemical peels.

“Hi, Caroline, hope you don’t mind me just barging in.” Demelza Carne was in her office when she arrived back, rummaging around in the little refrigerator in her cupboard, where she kept medications requiring cold storage, including botox. She’d called down to the pharmacy to ask for more to be brought up.

“Not at all. You could have just sent one of the techs, though.”

“Auditors prefer it if the higher-risk stuff is handled by a pharmacist.” Demelza’s voice echoed inside the unit before she emerged, closing and locking the door. Aside from Caroline, the pharmacy had the only key. The other woman appeared from the cupboard, her usual friendly smile on her face. Her red hair was scraped back in a bun, a few springy curls hanging loose. She handed Caroline a form, and Caroline scribbled her signature. “Got the frozen-faces in this afternoon, eh?”

“Pfft.” Caroline picked up her coffee and took a sip, making a face.

“That from the fourth floor?”

“How did you know?”

“The filter on that one’s needed replacing for weeks. Probably taste better if you filtered it through a sweaty sock.”

“Hmm, thanks for that thought.” Demelza laughed, sticking her pen behind her ear.

“Oh, did Verity message you?”  

“No, at least, I don’t think so.” Caroline dipped under her desk to fish in her handbag for her phone. She had a couple of messages, but none from Verity.

“Probably got busy. She was going to invite you out for drinks tonight. The Red Lion, about 7-ish? It’s for that friend of hers that’s just come to A & E. Dwight, is it?”

“Dwight Enys.”

“Oh, have you met him already?”

“Oh, yes.” Caroline made a face. “We’ve met.” 

~

The pub was fairly quiet at this hour on a Monday night, music playing low in the background. Caroline hesitated in the doorway, almost turning around and leaving, but she’d promised Verity she would come.

When Elizabeth had introduced Dwight in the canteen a few days earlier, Caroline had been at first struck by his handsome face and gently wavy fair hair, but the peculiar way he was looking at her had given her pause.

Oh, he’d been polite enough as they’d talked over lunch, but she hadn’t missed the little flicker when she’d said she was a dermatologist. He probably thought she was just some airhead – relatively speaking – who’d chosen a superficial field to make money, especially since he’d been off somewhere doing terribly important work with Medecines sans Frontieres. She’d met his type before, all terribly earnest about doing great works. They hadn’t spoken for long before he’d had to get back to A & E, but she’d got the distinct impression he didn’t think much to her. Why exactly this bothered her so much, she wasn’t sure.

“Caroline!” Demelza waved at her from a booth at the other side of the bar. Verity, Francis, George and Dwight were all there, clearly already one drink in. She greeted everyone as she sat down, barely flicking her eyes to Dwight.

“No Elizabeth?” She asked.

“One of her patients got taken for an emergency caesarean, but she might be here later.” George glanced at his phone, as if he was waiting for his wife’s message.

“Can I get you a drink…Caroline?” Dwight asked. She almost refused, given how reluctant he sounded, but if he was paying she might as well take him up on it.

“Gin and tonic, please.”

“Anyone else?”

“Just a lime and soda for me, I’m on call.” George replied. Francis declined, while Verity said she would have another white wine and Demelza the same again, waving her beer bottle. Dwight disappeared off to the bar.

“He seems nice.” Demelza commented, watching after him. Caroline absolutely did not look at the way his checked shirt fit neatly over his back.

“Hmmm,” she replied, noncommittally, suddenly very interested in her phone. Her Uncle Ray – who had finally come around to the wonders of modern technology – had sent her a picture of Horace sleeping on his favourite armchair, accompanied by a frowning emoji. She was showing it to the others when Dwight returned, drinks clasped carefully in his, not that she noticed, quite nice hands.

“Dwight, look at Caroline’s dog.” Verity said. Somewhat reluctantly, Caroline showed him.

“Oh, she’s very cute.” He didn’t sound especially interested.  

“ _He_. His name’s Horace.” She sniffed and slipped the phone back into her bag.

She mostly sat quietly as the rest chatted, letting their words flow over her. As she sipped her drink, she realised she was actually quite tired. She thought she saw Dwight glancing at her once or twice, but she couldn’t be sure. Considering he didn’t seem to like her much, but clearly got along well with the others, he was probably lamenting having to put up with her for the foreseeable.

Elizabeth arrived after a while, sitting herself on George’s lap and greeting him with a kiss, reaching out blindly to bat at Francis and Verity as they made ‘oooooh’ noises at them.

“How was your c-section?” Verity asked. “Was it that young girl, Sophie?”

“Yes. She was terrified, poor thing. But it all went well: 7lb baby boy. She’s going to call him Thomas.”

“Thomas?! Blimey, get an 18 year old in, and she gives her baby the most normal name I’ve heard in months.”

“18?!” Francis’ eyebrows shot up. “God.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth nodded. “I was shocked, too, when she was first referred, but she’s actually really got her head on straight. She finished her A-level exams a few months ago, and she’s put off her uni course for a year. Her parents and the boyfriend’s family already have care arrangements all sorted out. I’ve seen 40 year olds less organised. Hell, we were when we had Valentine!”

“Speaking of whom, I think we’d better be off.” George nudged her gently. “Ursula will never go to sleep for your Aunt.”

“She won’t sleep for anyone but you!” Elizabeth sighed, standing. “Only one, and she’s already a complete Daddy’s Girl!”

Not long after they’d said their goodbyes, Verity suggested it was time for her to make a move, and there was generally agreement all round. Francis offered Demelza a lift, which she accepted with slightly poorly concealed eagerness. Caroline hoped that was a sign they had – or were going to – finally do something about their incredibly unsubtle mutual crush.

Somewhat awkwardly, she found herself alone on the pavement outside the pub with Dwight, who shifted from foot to foot and gave her a tight smile.

“So, do you have car?” He really didn’t need to make small talk.

“No, I’ve ordered a taxi.”

“Oh. I –er – I’m just a few streets away so I was just going to walk.”

“Okay.”

“Would you like me to wait with you?”

“No, that’s fine.” She paused. “Thank you.”

“Oh, well, if you’re sure…I’ll, probably, see you at the hospital, then. Good night.”

“Good night.” With that he turned and strode off, a little too quickly, hands stuffed in his pockets. Her cab rolled up not long after and, for some reason, that horrendously awkward conversation was on her mind the whole way home.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you're enjoying it so far :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight tries to get some rest - he doesn’t quite manage, but he does get an unexpected invitation…

_“So…do you have a car?”_

Dwight groaned at the ceiling of the on-call room, remembering his truly awful attempt at making conversation with Caroline outside the pub a few nights earlier. He was far too old to be acting like a stuttering teenager around women – even women as beautiful as Caroline Penvenen. He’d been utterly dumbstruck at the first sight of her in the hospital canteen. She was one of the few doctors at the hospital who still wore a white coat – the dermatology clinic’s private patients liked the uniform – and with her blonde hair and incredible blue eyes he’d thought she looked like an angel.

“Pleased to meet you, Dr Enys.” The little quick of her lips and raise of her eyebrow as she’d spoken had just about done for him. He’d bungled his way through the following conversation then, as well. Judging by her attitude at the pub, she obviously thought he was a complete idiot. Just some A & E hack compared to her skilled specialist. Dermatology was a rarefied field, a cut above the ordinary, not populated by stuttering fools like him.

With a huff, he turned over on the uncomfortable mattress, hitting the overstuffed pillow. Something that hadn’t changed in the years he’d been away from the NHS – considering the purpose of on-call rooms was to allow medical staff to get necessary rest, they seemed designed expressly to prevent them. He’d slept in much worse conditions, of course, conditions that some people had to endure every day of their lives.

He hadn’t intended to spend the day in the hospital, but his new neighbours had decided that this was a good day to have their kitchen renovated. The drilling and hammering, the workmen’s loud chatter and radio turned up to too high, all combined to make it impossible for him to either concentrate on getting anything done, or catching up on some sleep, so here he was.

Except he wasn’t getting any sleep here, either. Not that he’d ever found hospitals especially restful – and having his thoughts consumed by a certain blonde, blue-eyed skin doctor was not helping at all. With a sigh, he decided to make a trip to the coffee machine; not for caffeine, of course, that was the last thing he needed, but he wondered if a hot chocolate might help. Or rather, the vaguely cocoa-flavoured warm water that passed for hot chocolate out of that machine. He couldn’t be bothered to trail all the way down to the canteen or the coffee shop in the reception, however, so it would have to do.

“Ugh, for God’s sake.” The machine had just rejected his 20p piece for the third time and Dwight could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on.

“There’s a trick to it – you have to sort of shove it upwards.” He turned to find the woman he had been both secretly hoping and secretly dreading running into for the last few days. Caroline wasn’t wearing her white coat today, and her dark red top was incredibly flattering, although Dwight couldn’t imagine that anything would look bad on her.

“Oh, er, thanks…” The coin clattered into the exit tray yet again, and he closed his eyes, wishing the ground would just swallow him up.

“Here, let me.” Caroline’s shoulder brushed against his as she bent to retrieve the coin and he suddenly became uncomfortably aware of how long it had been since he’d been in close proximity to a woman who wasn’t a patient. With a little sort of flick of her wrist, she popped the 20p into the slot and the machine made a satisfying click as it dropped into the coin collector. She held out her hand to him, and it took him a stupid minute to realise she wanted the rest of his change –after she’d entered that, she turned to him with a raised eyebrow. He thankfully managed to get it together enough to tell her what he wanted. Dwight wasn’t sure he’d ever considered pressing the button on a vending machine to be a particularly attractive activity, but it certainly was when Caroline did it.

She handed him the little plastic cup, holding the rim delicately, although the liquid wasn’t really warm enough for that to be necessary. Dwight took a watery sip and grimaced – as she turned back to the machine, he saw Caroline’s soft lips quirk in amusement. She opened the stylish-looking leather purse she’d had tucked under her arm and fished for some coins. He stood for a moment, feeling awkward, and was about to just leave when she spoke again.

“Busy day?”

“Er, no, actually. I’m on call, but my neighbours are renovating so I thought here might be a bit more…restful.” She didn’t really need to know that, but he’d blabbed it out anyway, like the awkward idiot he was.

“Really? This place? Restful?” She had a very musical laugh, tilting her head attractively as she looked back at him.

“Compared to Drillsville, at least.” He paused, trying to think of something else to say, but she beat him to it.

“Are you going to watch the surgery?”

“The surgery?” He frowned.

“Oh, didn’t you know? Francis is performing the last stage of an OOKP. The patient’s agreed the surgery can be public – for the students mainly, but there’s a few others going to observe. It was a chemical burn which caused the injury – I treated him for some of the facial scarring, and I’ve been helping with the cheek implant.” Dwight was impressed. It had taken him a moment to dredge up whatever book he’d read about OOKP in back in his student days. It was an extremely rare and complex procedure involving the implantation of specially cultivated dental tissue into a patient’s eye to restore lost vision.  Like a lot of grafts, it was developed by temporary implantation into the patient’s body –  the cheek, as Caroline had said.

“Wow.” He had no idea Caroline was involved with such work. Slightly unfairly, upon reflection, he’d assumed she performed primarily aesthetic procedures. “When?”

“In about half an hour.” Caroline bit her lip thoughtfully. “Would you like to come?” 

~

“Good afternoon, everybody. My name is Francis Poldark, and I’m the consulting ophthalmic surgeon here at St. Neot’s. This is Mr Frank Worthing.” Francis – his voice muffled slightly by his surgical mask, and rendered crackly by the intercom system between the theatre and the observation room - indicated the unconscious patient on the operating table. “Mr Worthing has kindly agreed to allow you all to gawp at his surgery today for the purposes of enriching your medical education. He suffered a chemical burn to the upper left side of his face in an industrial accident, the resulting damage from which rendered him unsuitable for ordinary corneal transplant. Therefore, we will today perform the final stage of an osteo-odonto-keratoprosthesis procedure, more easily called an OOKP. Approximately four months ago, the first stages of the procedure were performed – the harvest and preparation of the complex. Scans show that it has successfully grown a new blood supply, so today we will be removing the complex from Mr Worthing’s cheek and inserting it into the eye.”

“Ew.” Dwight heard one of the students mutter. Clearly not one destined for ophthalmic surgery – or possibly any medical career at all if that was their attitude. There were many things more “ew”-worthy than sticking an implant into an eye, Dwight could tell them that for a fact.

“While we’re making sure everything is ready, I will introduce the rest of the surgical team, to give you some idea of what is involved in a procedure like this. First of all, assisting me is Mr Harry Blewitt, plastic surgeon, who will remove the complex from the cheek.” Another man amongst the virtually indistinguishable masked and gowned group nodded. “Also assisting – Ms Gloyne, ophthalmology registrar, surgical nurses Mrs Carter, Ms Edwards and Mr Daniel. And last, but very much not least, our anaesthetist, Dr George Warleggan. George, while we prep Mr Worthing, perhaps you could take our audience through your pre-operative checks, and what you’ll be monitoring as we proceed?”

“Of course…” George took over the narration, as smooth and confident as Francis – clearly, this was not the first time either of them had undertaken an educational exercise like this. Frankly, the thought terrified Dwight – he’d performed medical procedures under extremely stressful conditions, but having an audience like this…He admired their nerve; but surgeons were a different breed, far beyond even what he’d been trained to do in emergency medicine.

The surgery began, Mr Blewitt first carefully incising the patient’s cheek before removing the complex. Francis – with occasional contributions from the others – narrated the procedure in clear, simple terms, understandable to even the most befuddled medical student. Most of them were eagerly scribbling notes – Dwight was almost tempted to do so himself. There were a few other non-students in the room, aside from himself and Caroline, mostly distinguishable by their looks of interest rather than wide-eyed awe. He recognised one of them as a heart surgeon he’d been introduced to a week or so earlier, Malcolm Mc-something. The others – a younger man with fair hair, and a pretty, dark haired woman – he didn’t know.

After Francis had begun to remove the required parts of Mr Worthing’s eye – a couple of the students shifted uncomfortably – Ms Gloyne took over the narration, allowing her supervisor to concentrate. She wasn’t quite as confident as Francis, but her strong Cornish accent was engaging to listen to, and she clearly knew what she was talking about. The door to the observation room clicked open and he turned to see Elizabeth Warleggan slip in, taking a seat on the back most of the tiered benches. Catching his eye, she gave him a small smile before turning to watch the procedure, although he saw her gaze flick to her husband at his position by the monitoring equipment. George was bent over his clipboard, making the meticulous perioperative record of all anaesthetists.

As fascinating as Dwight was finding this, he still could not quite concentrate. To his surprise, Caroline had sat down right next to him on the bench, and a rather significant part of his brain was given over to the scent of her perfume, and the places where her arm and her knee touched his. Every time he glanced at her, however, she was staring into the theatre, rapt. It was only natural, Mr Worthing was her patient too. Dwight tried not to stare at her for too long, despite the way the bright surgical lights shining through the glass partition lit up her face and her golden hair.

“And that…is that. Of course, as with all grafts, we shall have to monitor Mr Worthing carefully before we can know if the procedure was a success, but we have completed today’s elements without complication and we can now begin transferring Mr Worthing into recovery. Thank you all for attending today.” A few of the students applauded, and Francis chuckled. Some of them lingered to watch the final parts of the procedure, but most began to file out, standing and stretching. The doctors all made for the door, as well, and Dwight stood to follow Caroline.

“Well, what did you think?” He almost started as she spoke to him when they got out into the corridor.

“Oh, er, very impressive. I’ve never seen an OOKP before, haven’t even read about one since medical school.”

“Me neither, but Francis is a bit of a specialist – this is his sixth, I believe.”

“Wow.” Dwight knew Francis was of some repute in his field, even at his relatively young age for a consultant, but he’d had no idea about that. Francis had practiced with a noted Professor of Opthalmology in Edinburgh for some years before returning to Cornwall, presumably he’d worked on the procedure there. Dwight made a mental note to ask him about it.

“Well, I er, I’d best be getting home. Horace is well past his walk, he’ll be driving Uncle Ray mad.” Caroline glanced at her watch. Dwight did likewise and was shocked to realise the time – they’d been in there for almost six hours! He’d been so fascinated – both by the surgery and by Caroline’s nearness – that he hadn’t noticed at all. Well, at least all the racket at home should be over by now. At least, he hoped so, since he had a proper shift in just over fourteen hours, and his sleep schedule was completely out of whack.

“How is Horace?” It was a monumentally stupid question, but for some reason he’d asked it anyway. To his surprise, Caroline smiled.

“Do you like dogs, Dr Enys?” From anyone else, the use of his proper title and surname might have seemed dismissive or overly formal, but in Caroline’s gentle tones it sounded almost enticing.  

“A bit. My aunt had one, a Pomeranian named Fifi. She used to take fits whenever Aunt Mary played the piano. I don’t know if she was musically inclined or the opposite.” Caroline gave that wonderful laugh again, and a proper, wide smile which just about floored him.

“I really should go. See you around, maybe.”

“Yeah, see you.” With another quick smile, she was gone, heading back towards her own department. He watched her until she disappeared around the corner at the end of the corridor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody has a good day, and Caroline hears some hospital gossip.

_There are a number of studies that have found that people living with a range of potentially visible skin conditions can experience social anxiety, usually accompanied by lowered quality of life as a consequence of avoidant coping._

Caroline sighed – she’d read that sentence four times now. She let the issue of the _British Journal of Dermatology_ fall shut on her desk and put her head in her hands. Today had really drained her; she’d been up late with Uncle Ray after he’d suffered a hypoglycaemic episode, and had been reluctant to leave him this morning, although he’d insisted he was all right. He probably was – he usually kept his diabetes under very good control – but she couldn’t help worrying.

Even if Uncle Ray had wanted her to stay, she probably wouldn’t have been able to – her appointment schedule that morning had been absolutely jam-packed, with both private and NHS patients, and she’d barely had five minutes to herself. When she was supposed to be having lunch, she’d been called in alongside her boss, Dr Bodrugan, to see a woman who had suffered severe burns in a house fire. She’d been transferred from the Royal Cornwall to see Dr Bodrugan specifically, as he was an expert in treating such injuries.  Those kinds of cases were always difficult – the patient would require numerous surgeries and months if not years of treatment.

On top of all that, while she’d been trying to catch up on her paperwork this afternoon she’d got a call from the oncology department asking her to pass on her files on a patient – his skin cancer had metastasised to his bones. He was only in his 20s and the type of cancer he had progressing in that way was extremely rare. That had thrown her completely off – she’d tried catching up on her reading as a bit of a distraction, but it was certainly no help, especially as that same issue contained an article on the treatment of melanoma.

No, this was no good; she needed a break. A trip down to the coffee shop for something creamy and fattening should do the trick; it was probably not the best idea to have a Starbucks in the lobby of a hospital, but Caroline was eternally grateful for it. As she waited at the end of the counter for her venti caramel macchiato she heard a familiar voice order a chai latte, and turned to see Dwight Enys standing at the till, arms folded, looking about as worn down as she felt. His hair was beginning to flop over his forehead in a really quite charming way. He wore his dark blue scrubs, and she might have admired how well the colour suited him if she hadn’t noticed the splatter of what looked like blood up the left sleeve. Caroline had done her time in A & E as a student and she didn’t envy those who had made it their specialty. The cases she’d dealt with today were nothing compared to what Dwight saw on a much more regular basis.

“Oh, hello.” Dwight spotted her as he headed down to wait, too. She hadn’t seen him for a few days, since they’d observed the OOKP together and had that funny little talk about Horace afterwards. Caroline had wondered what on Earth she’d been thinking, inviting him to come and watch an unusual eye surgery like it was a date or something. As fascinating as the procedure had been, she’d paid far too much attention to him sitting next to her, his knee touching hers, the warm, masculine scent of him.

“Hi. How are you?” She paused, glancing at the blood on his sleeve. “Or should I not ask?”

“What – Oh, God.” He rubbed ineffectually at the already dried stain. He lowered his voice. “Stabbing.”

“Jesus. How are they?” He shook his head, glancing down at the floor, and she fought the urge to put her hand on his arm – she didn’t know if he would appreciate it. “I’m sorry.”

“It happens.” He didn’t sound as casual as his words suggested. Most doctors developed a thick skin about death and suffering. It was necessary to keep from breaking down on a regular basis, but only the truly callous could remain completely unaffected.

“Do you – do you want to talk about it?” Their drinks had arrived, and Caroline inclined her head toward a table.

“No.” The abrupt refusal prickled at her, until Dwight shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude – I’d just rather not talk about… _that_. Anything else, though.”

They sat at the table, gripping their cups. Neither seemed willing to speak at first, until they both tried to at the same time. They laughed, and this broke the tension.

“You first.” Caroline said, taking a sip of her drink. The sickly sweetness absolutely hit the spot.

“Bad day for you, too?”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look like you drink those on a regular basis.” Caroline chuckled.

“Well diagnosed, Dr Enys.” Dwight smiled. Even still a little sad, he had a lovely smile. She told him about her cancer patient and her burns patient. He was an excellent listener, his face kind and sympathetic –she was sure he would be calming presence to patients in A & E, reassuring them at what was probably the most frightening time of their lives. When she’d finished, there was a short silence and she realised she’d been talking for quite a long time. She almost began to apologise, but he began to speak quietly.

“He was 20. Some sort of fight in a pub.” Caroline realised he meant the stabbing victim he’d been treating.

“In the middle of the day?” Truro wasn’t a crime-free utopia, but someone getting stabbed in a pub in broad daylight wasn’t exactly in the usual course of things.

“Yeah. Not the sort of thing I expected to see very much of back in the UK.” He looked down at his now nearly empty cup. What sort of things had he seen while working with MSF? Caroline lifted her hand, intending to place it over one of his but pulled back suddenly when he abruptly stood.

“I’d, er, I’d better get back. My shift’s over, but I still need to finish up some paperwork. Thanks for the, um, the talk.”

“I think I did most of the talking.” He smiled again, gently.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He paused.  “I think Verity and the others are going out again on Friday, see you then, maybe?”

“Yes, see you.” He turned and headed out, stopping to drain the paper cup and dump it in the bin at the entrance. Maybe it was just Caroline’s imagination but, as he was about to go through the swing doors into the main part of the hospital, she was sure he stopped to glance back at her. 

~

“Hey.” Elizabeth looked up, startled, smiling when she saw Caroline.

“Oh, hello. Sorry. Miles away there.”

“You okay?” Fancying a change, Caroline had gone out to a local sandwich shop to fetch something for lunch, and found Elizabeth sitting on one of the benches in the grounds, looking lost in thought. She was wearing her dark pink scrubs, glasses shoved up on top of her head.

“Yes. No. It’s just – one of my patients went into premature labour this morning. 25 weeks.”

“Oh, my…” Caroline rubbed her friend’s back gently.  

“I’ve dealt with premature babies before, but it never gets any easier. She’s just so small, and we hook them up to all these machines, and the parents…”

“But chances of survival are quite good at 25 weeks, aren’t they?”

“Fairly.” Elizabeth sighed. “But that’s not much comfort to her parents. If I tell them there’s a 70% chance of their baby surviving, all they can hear is the 30% chance she won’t. It’s mostly out of my hands now, really, she’s in the NICU, but…”

“They remind you of Valentine, don’t they?” Elizabeth’s son had been premature – nothing like as early as that, but he’d had to spend a couple of weeks in hospital being monitored. Caroline hadn’t known Elizabeth then, but she’d seen the sadness in both her and George’s eyes on the rare occasions they spoke about it. Valentine was a happy, healthy boy now, but it would have been truly distressing at the time, especially for two doctors; watching their baby suffer but being unable to do anything for him.

“Yes and no.” Elizabeth glanced down and Caroline was suddenly reminded of talking to Dwight the other day, the sadness on his handsome face. She shook herself, she shouldn’t be thinking of some guy while she was comforting her friend.

“Have you seen George?”

“He’s in a long surgery. I’ll talk to him later.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Anyway, how are you? How’s Ray? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He’s good. He had a hyper a few days ago, but everything’s back to normal now.”

“Oh good, I’m glad.” Caroline’s Uncle Ray was an old friend of Elizabeth’s late father – it was how the two women had met. When Caroline had come to St Neot’s to take up her registrar position, Ray had invited Elizabeth and George to dinner to introduce them. Caroline had initially been embarrassed by this – her Uncle helping her to make friends like she was a child – but she’d liked them both immensely and they’d quickly become close. She was even joint godmother to little Ursula, who Elizabeth had fallen pregnant with not long after they’d met. “Don’t let me keep you. I should be getting back, anyway, I’ve got a patient being induced this afternoon.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I will be. Thank you, Caroline.” Elizabeth reached over to embrace her, and Caroline hugged her friend back tightly, but hissed as she pulled back, pain darting between her shoulder blades. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes. Just spent all morning bending over the treatment table.”

“Why don’t you go down and see Morwenna? I know she’s free this afternoon, a couple of her sports patients had to rearrange because their match schedule was changed last minute.”

“Do you think she’d mind me just dropping in?” Morwenna Chynoweth was Elizabeth’s cousin, and a recently qualified physiotherapist. A very skilled one at that.

“Not at all. I’ll send her a text. See you later.” With a squeeze of her hand, Elizabeth was gone. Caroline shifted on the seat, and groaned again at the ache in her back. Perhaps a visit to Morwenna wasn’t a bad idea, after all.

“Come in!” Just after getting back to her office, Caroline had received a text from Morwenna saying she could drop by any time after 3. So, after finishing up her own early afternoon schedule, each appointment making the niggling pain across her shoulders steadily worse, here she was. At Morwenna’s invitation, she pushed open the door of the treatment room, but found that the physio was not alone.

“Oh, sorry!”

“No, it’s okay, Rosina was just off.” Rosina was a pretty young blonde in a nurse’s scrubs. Clearly, Caroline wasn’t the only staff member who’d taken advantage of Morwenna’s free afternoon. Like the dermatology department, the allied health clinic was partially private but, as a small perk, hospital staff could receive treatments for free or at a reduced rate.

“Thanks, Morwenna, it really does feel better.” Rosina stood and headed out, giving Caroline a friendly smile.

“Consider getting it checked out though, will you?”

“I will!” The young nurse slipped out the door, heading along the corridor. Caroline knew better than to ask what they were talking about. Morwenna would keep her patients’ business as private as any physician.

“So, Caroline, what can I do for you?” Morwenna smiled as Caroline closed the door. Her resemblance to Elizabeth really was striking, even down to their short haircuts, although Elizabeth’s bob was softer. Caroline explained about her sore back as Morwenna directed her to sit on one of those exercise ball things, nodding encouragingly when Caroline hesitated doubtfully.

“Trust me.” When Caroline sat, Morwenna gently placed her hands on her shoulders and adjusted her posture into what Caroline realised was actually a very comfortable position. They chatted as Morwenna worked, gently manipulating Caroline’s arms, and massaging her shoulders and upper back. Like her cousin, Morwenna had a naturally soothing manner with people, making her easy to talk to. “So, what’s this new doctor like? Enys?”

“Dwight?” Caroline was immediately alert at the mention of him. She hadn’t been expecting Morwenna to ask about him, but she supposed it made sense – she knew Verity just as well as the others, so she was bound to have heard about him. “He’s..he seems nice. I haven’t, er, haven’t spoken to him much.”

“Oh yes, he definitely sounds ‘nice’.” Morwenna chuckled. “Rosina won’t shut up about him.”

“Rosina? The nurse?”

“Oh, yes. She works in A & E, and she’s done a few shifts with him. He’s the absolute bees’ knees, according to her.”

“Hmm, really?” Caroline did her best to sound disinterested. Suddenly, Morwenna did something to her between the shoulder blades and she did forget all about Dwight for a moment. “Ohhhh my God, what did you just do? That was amazing.”

“A magician never reveals her secrets.” Morwenna laughed. “Although there’s no trick to it, to be honest. You doctors all spend too much time bending over. Just try to take more breaks, whenever you can, and make sure your desk chair is adjusted properly.”

“Wow. I feel like a new woman, really.” Her stiffness was almost completely gone. She stretched, marvelling, but then remembered what they’d been talking about before. “So, um, Rosina’s impressed with Dwight’s work, then?”

“Oh, yeah, his ‘work’.” Morwenna laughed, sitting down behind her desk. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’s an excellent doctor, but I’m also fairly sure it’s not his skills in the A & E that Rosina’s really interested in.”

“Oh.” Caroline suddenly felt a lot less energised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you're all enjoying :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight gets an invitation…or two.

“She’s this way.” Dwight didn’t bother with any preamble as Elizabeth strode into the A & E. She wasn’t making a social call. A First Kernow bus had been forced to swerve across a road to avoid a collision between two cars at a junction. The driver had done very well to control it, but several passengers had been thrown to the floor or into other seats. Most had sustained little more than cuts and bruises, but one passenger was a pregnant young woman who had fallen hard into the aisle of the bus. She possibly had whiplash, but it was the baby Dwight was most concerned about.

“What’s her name?”

“Chloe.” Elizabeth pulled back the curtain, Dwight following close behind. Chloe lay on the bed, strapped into a neck brace. One sleeve of her blouse had been cut away to treat her sprained wrist.

“Hello, Chloe. I’m Elizabeth, I’m here to see about your baby, okay?”

“I can’t feel her move, she’s not moving…” Chloe gasped.

“Shhh, shhh, just lie still for me.” Elizabeth glanced back at Dwight. “Have you got the ultrasound?”

“It’s on its way.” He glanced back around the curtain, in time to see Rosina leading a young woman wheeling a machine down the ward towards them. He stepped back to let the technician in, and Elizabeth immediately set to work. Dwight watched as they spread the conducting gel on Chloe’s stomach, and Elizabeth placed the transducer, both she and the technician concentrating intently on the monitor. The fetus’ heartbeat began to come through, loud and clear. Dwight was no obstetrician – although he’d dealt with deliveries during his time with MSF – but even he knew that it was fast, and arrhythmic.

“That’s fast, that’s too fast!” Chloe cried, and her own monitors began to bleep, her heartrate and BP increasing.

“Shhh, Chloe, shhh.” Elizabeth soothed. “You need to stay calm for her, all right? Can you do that, Chloe? It’s fast, but it’s not too fast. We’re going to take you upstairs to keep an eye on you both. Have you got her chart?”

“Here.” Dwight handed it off to her, and he was about to help Elizabeth get the bed moving when there was a shout from further along the ward, machines beeping. He turned away to deal with it, glancing back to see Elizabeth and Rosina wheeling the bed towards the lifts, another nurse and a porter joining them to take care of the equipment.

It was almost four hours later when Dwight finally got around to remembering Chloe, feeling a touch guilty. He’d been busy, dealing with the rest of the injured from the bus crash – the victims of the primary collision had been taken to the Royal Cornwall – as well as numerous other cases. A heart attack, a football injury, severe food poisoning, and everything else that was a bit more commonplace than a bus crash.

Over a cup of watery vending machine tea he rang up to the maternity ward.

“Maternity Unit, Verity Poldark speaking.”

“Oh, hi, Verity, it’s Dwight.”

“Dwight! Hello! What can I do for you?”

“Are you busy?”

“Not really, relatively speaking.”

“I just wanted to check on a patient who came through A & E earlier. A pregnant woman who’d been in a bus crash. Elizabeth brought her up – her name was Chloe…Brooks, I think?”

“Oh, yes. I haven’t been treating her, but…” He heard the click of a keyboard in the background. “Oh hang on, here’s Elizabeth now….Elizabeth!”

“No, don’t bother her – “ Verity’s voice was muffled as if she’d held the receiver away from her, but Dwight heard something about “bus” and “Chloe” and an indistinct reply from Elizabeth.

“Hi, Dwight.”

“Hi, Elizabeth. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“No! It’s okay. You were asking about Chloe? She’s fine, the baby’s fine, it was mostly just reacting to her shock. We’re keeping her overnight for observation, but the baby’s heartrate is back to normal, and she doesn’t seem to be in any kind of distress. All the tests are coming back fine. Chloe’s resting now, her mum and her fiancé are here.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that.”

“It’s good of you to ask after her.”

“Well, thanks for speaking to me, I’ll let you get on…”

“Oh, wait! Now that I’ve got you, are you free on Saturday?” Dwight blinked, thrown by the question. He had to think for a minute.

“Er, yes, I think so. I’m on call overnight on Friday, but I’m off Saturday.”

“Oh, great! George and I are having a little sort of party at home on Saturday afternoon, since most of us are off or on-call that day. Would you like to come?” Dwight felt genuinely touched by the invitation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to a party, or any real social gathering aside from a couple of trips to the pub.

“Yes, that would be nice, thank you. Can I bring anything?”

“Well, I’ve convinced George to brave the barbeque if it’s fine, so you can bring something for that if you’d like, or something to drink, but it’s not really necessary.”

“Ok, then. Well, I really should get back now, thank you again for asking me.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I? I’ll text you the address, see you. Bye!” With her cheerful goodbye, Elizabeth hung up and Dwight smiled. He wondered if “most of us” included Caroline…

~

Dwight hadn’t managed to get around to sorting himself out with a car, having sold his old one before he went off abroad. George and Elizabeth lived in a suburb he wasn’t familiar with, and which didn’t seem to be on any obvious bus routes, so he was obliged to beg a lift from Verity.

“Wow.” Verity pulled up outside a very beautiful white-painted detached house on a quiet, leafy road. The wide drive way was filled with cars – a silver Audi he recognised as belonging to George, one or two others, and a dark blue soft top Jaguar which set off a little flutter in the pit of Dwight’s stomach. Not because he was a car enthusiast – although it was a beautiful machine – but because he knew it belonged to Caroline.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Verity locked her little Mini, which she’d parked neatly beside the hedge.

“Er, yes.” The door was opened before he could ring the bell, and Dwight almost greeted Elizabeth before the words died on his lips when he realised that he wasn’t looking at Elizabeth at all, but at someone uncannily like her. The impression was made even more slightly disconcerting by the fact that she was holding the same baby girl Dwight had seen a picture of, although rather bigger now.

“Hi, Verity! And you must be Dwight? I’m Morwenna, Elizabeth’s cousin.”

“Oh, right! Yes.” Elizabeth had mentioned her, laughing about St Neot’s being a ‘family affair’. He hadn’t been expecting such a strong family resemblance, however.

“Come in, come in.” They followed her into an airy entranceway and along a hall-way into an impressively large kitchen.

“Hi!” Elizabeth was standing by the back door, holding two bowls in her hands. Slightly awkwardly, he proffered the bottle of rosé he’d brought. “Oh, thank you! That’s lovely! You can put it in the fridge, unless you want to open it?”

“Er, no, I’m okay with a beer, if that’s all right?”

“Of course! Help yourself. Come out when you’re ready.”

They were clearly fairly late to the party; quite a few people were milling about in the garden; a long sweeping lawn, surrounded by neatly kept flowerbeds. He’d stepped out onto a patio, where George was poking unenthusiastically at a gently smoking barbecue.

“I don’t know why you insist on this bloody thing.” He muttered. “We’ve got a perfectly good stove.”

“It’s summer! Honestly, so grumpy.” Belying her words, Elizabeth, having rid herself of the dishes, placed an affectionate kiss on George’s cheek, hugging him. “Now say hello to Dwight and Verity.”

Despite George’s complaining, he was obviously a dab hand at the barbecue as the food was absolutely delicious, not to mention plentiful, considering it came on top of a buffet of salads, breads and half a dozen other things. Clearly, the Warleggans liked to spoil their guests. Dwight kept insisting he didn’t want any more, but his protests were ignored by the hosts, as his insistence he didn’t want another drink was ignored by Morwenna, who seemed to be on bartending duties.  He did manage to eventually persuade her to pour him a large lime and soda, there being a plentiful supply of non-alcoholic drinks for those who were on-call or driving.

Feeling extremely well fed, he sat sipping his drink in a comfortable chair on the extensive decking at the end of the garden, watching a few children run around on the grass. One of them was George and Elizabeth’s little boy, Valentine, who was even cuter in reality than in his picture. Two of the others belonged to a woman he’d been introduced to as Margaret Vosper, a consultant radiologist, and another was the nephew of Emma Tregirls, a nurse he’d met once or twice.

“Well, Dr Enys, are you as well fed as I am?” He started as Caroline sat down next to him, a smile playing about her soft lips. When he arrived, she’d been talking to Demelza and Francis, who seemed oddly inseparable. It was probably just his imagination, but she’d seemed almost keen to avoid him, drifting away from the food table when Elizabeth had dragged him over for yet another helping, and slipping out of the kitchen when he’d taken back an empty beer bottle. He’d barely listened to Malcolm MacNeill as the surgeon had been telling him something about an experimental procedure he was helping to research, distracted by Caroline sitting with Elizabeth on a swing bench by the fence, her bare legs kicking as the bench rocked gently.

“Yes, I couldn’t eat another bite.” He answered, as casually as he could, ignoring the way she was gently trailing her fingers around the rim of her glass.

“Elizabeth is determined to have us all stuffed to the gills. It’s the mother in her.” She tutted. “So domestic.”

Dwight followed her gaze to where Elizabeth and George were standing, George holding their baby daughter while Elizabeth petted her little cheek. He glanced back at Caroline and saw that, despite her words, she was watching them with a small smile, a slightly faraway look in her pretty blue eyes. He was about to speak – although to say what he didn’t exactly know – when Elizabeth called Caroline over. With a quick glance at him, she was gone.

The group dwindled as time wore on – those with children going first, Emma Tregirls picking up her sleeping nephew from where he was curled up on a garden chair and carrying him gently away, managing to lean over and give Elizabeth a quick kiss on the cheek as she left. Shortly after, the phone of the young-ish surgeon Dwight had seen watching the OOKP, and who had introduced himself as Hugh Armitage, trilled, calling him to the hospital. One or two others who had to work tomorrow excused themselves as well, leaving only Francis, Demelza, Verity, Caroline and Morwenna – who Dwight eventually realised actually lived at the house – aside from himself and their hosts.

He began to feel as if he should perhaps leave himself. He’d had a few drinks and he was back to work at 9 on Monday morning, but with Verity as his designated driver, he couldn’t go until she did. It wasn’t that he especially wanted to go, but he was still very aware of being the newcomer to this group, despite his long-standing friendship with Verity.

With the daylight gradually beginning to dwindle, they gathered under a couple of garden umbrellas on the decking, George disappearing behind the shed for a moment before several strings of lanterns lit up along the fence.

“I was so proud of the little group of plant pots in my back yard until I came here for the first time,” Demelza laughed.

“I keep telling them if they didn’t have such a nice house, I would leave, so it’s their own fault I’m still here.” Morwenna smiled, pouring herself a glass of the homemade lemonade Elizabeth had carried out of the house a while earlier before disappearing again.

“Oh, so it’s got nothing to do with the fact we don’t charge you rent?” George raised his eyebrows as he sat down, taking the jug from her to pour some for himself.

“Maybe a tiny bit.”

“All right, who wants ice cream?” Elizabeth returned, balancing two tubs, as well as dishes and spoons.

“Elizabeth, you seem to fully intend that we should all put on at least two stone before the night is over.” Caroline cried, although she took a dish as eagerly as everyone else.

“Yes.” Elizabeth replied flatly, before laughing.

“I’m not sure I can eat another bite.” Demelza patted her stomach.

“Oh, but that’s the beauty of ice cream, it melts and fills the gaps.” Francis stuck his spoon into the rocky road Elizabeth had scooped out for him.

“Is that a medical fact, doctor?”

“Yes, and frankly, as a pharmacist, you should be ashamed of not knowing that.” Demelza laughed, tongue between her teeth and, as Dwight took in the way she was looking at Francis, he suddenly felt monumentally dense.

He’d accepted a dish of cookies & cream flavour, and it was absolutely delicious. It gave him something to focus on other than the way Caroline was sucking on her spoon. He had definitely had too much to drink.

“Are you ready to go, Dwight?” He realised he’d drifted off, staring into his scraped-clean bowl, when Verity spoke to him.

“Only if you are.”

“Well, I was going to have another drink – non-alcoholic! – but if you want to leave…”

“No, it’s ok – “

“I can drive you.” He looked up at Caroline in surprise, feeling his mouth open and close like a fish. Or an idiot. “I’d like to drop in on Uncle Ray before I go home, and the hospital is on the way there – you live nearby, don’t you?”

“Uh, er, yes.”

“Well, then, whenever you’re ready.” Elizabeth pressed him leftover food on both of them – Dwight tried and failed to argue out of the sake of politeness, but he couldn’t really deny that he had absolutely nothing in his fridge.

He felt spectacularly awkward balancing the foil covered dishes on his knee in the slightly cramped front of Caroline’s Jag, really wishing he’d thought to adjust the seat when he got in.

“So, where’s Horace today?” Why was it whenever he was in proximity to Caroline, the ability to conduct an intelligent sounding conversation seemed to desert him?

“My neighbour took him for his walk and fed him this afternoon.” Caroline answered distractedly as they pulled up to a blind corner, easing the car out slowly. He found himself watching her as she drove, her elegant, long-fingered hands on the wheel, her brow furrowed gently as she watched the road. It gave him a slight start when they pulled up outside his flat, the plain brown terraced house looking a bit sad compared to Elizabeth and George’s beautiful home. He’d felt mildly embarrassed when he’d given Caroline the address – he could probably afford something a bit nicer, but it was convenient and it had been available right away.

“Right, well, er, thanks for the lift.” He shuffled the food, about to get out, when Caroline turned to him, her blue eyes sparkling in the low light.

“You intrigue me, Dr Enys.” She tilted her head. “I don’t know why, because I hardly know anything about you.”

“Well.” Dwight swallowed, hoping to God this wasn’t the alcohol making him imagine the enticing look in her eye, and decided to take a chance. “What would you like to know?” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline gets some encouragement, and a little something else.

_What would you like to know?_

Caroline kept replaying that moment in her head over and over. Her and Dwight sitting in her car, in the orange light of a lamppost, with half a dozen dishes of Elizabeth’s leftovers between them, and yet, it was quite possibly one of the most charged moments of her life. She’d almost thought he might kiss her, but he’d held back.

“I’d like to know if you would have dinner with me.” She could hardly believe the words as they came out of her mouth. Dwight had said nothing for a second, and she’d worried that she’d made a terrible miscalculation, but then he’d broken out into a shy smile. He’d glanced down at the food he was still clutching awkwardly on his knee, and she could have sworn a light blush crept over his cheeks. God, he was so endearing.

“When?”

“Saturday night? Are you free?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Ok. I’ll, um, I’ll call you.”

“Ok, er, see you, then.” With another smile, he’d slipped out of the car, and she waited until he’d gone into the house, almost dropping the foil trays as he fumbled for his keys. Caroline had driven all the way to her Uncle Ray’s with the most ridiculous smile on her face.

“Caroline! Hello?!” She snapped back to the present, realising that she’d been staring dreamily at the noticeboard outside the HR office. God, how embarrassing. She was not helped by the amused look that Elizabeth was giving her when she turned around. “Something on your mind?”

“Shut up. Aren’t you supposed to be off today?” Elizabeth didn’t look convinced by the change of subject, but went with it.

“Yes, hence all this.” She gestured down at herself, at her definitely-not-for-work sundress and, more obviously, the pushchair she was gently rolling back and forth with her left hand. In an attempt to avert attention from her ridiculous behaviour, Caroline bent over the pram to see Ursula’s beaming face.

“Hello, you!” The baby giggled, bringing out her dimples. Caroline wasn’t really sure how she felt about babies in general, but she adored her goddaughter.

“Na!”

“Say hello to Auntie Caroline. He. Lo.”

“O!”

“How clever you are!” Caroline tickled Ursula and she laughed delightedly, kicking her chubby legs in her cute blue, spotted romper suit, which matched her little sunhat. “Why’s your mummy brought you to the boring old hospital, hmmm?”

“Because her daddy’s spent all night in theatre, and he’s back on shift in about four hours, so we’ve brought him some breakfast.” Elizabeth waved a brown paper bag and Caroline caught an extremely appetising smell.

“As a doctor, I should really say that the grease on that bag tells me George shouldn’t eat that. As a human being, I want one.” Elizabeth laughed, and held it out of reach.

“He’s in the on-call room, getting some rest. Want to come with us?”

“No, I shouldn’t – “

“Oh, yes, you should, because then we can find out what that little visit to cloud nine was all about.”

“No – “ Somehow, while balancing pushchair and paper bag, Elizabeth managed to take hold of Caroline by the arm, and all but frog march her in the direction of the on-call room.

“Oh, have I told you recently how much I love you?” George had been dozing on one of those horrible hard beds when they came in. Thankfully, he had the room to himself, considering they were bringing in food and a baby, the sight of both of which had perked him up significantly.

“You might have, but it’s always nice to hear it.” Elizabeth gave her husband a kiss before handing him the bag, which he practically ripped open, revealing a bacon and egg sandwich that looked absolutely divine. Caroline made a mental note to see if the canteen did them. She started as Elizabeth sat down next to her on the bed opposite George. “Right then, tell us all about your car ride with Dwight, since it obviously went very well.”

“Mm.” George quickly swallowed. “What’s this?”

“Oh, nothing – “

“ _Not_ nothing!” Elizabeth cried. “I just found Caroline mooning at the HR noticeboard, and since I doubt you’ve developed an overt fondness for the hospital book club, I’m fairly certain it has something with a certain new A & E doctor. Unless you’ve got a blatantly obvious crush on someone else we don’t know about.”

“I do _not_ have a blatantly obvious crush!” Except Caroline knew she probably did. She’d be damned if she’d admit, however. Not even to her best friends.

“Hmm. Well, if you say so. He definitely does though.”

“He does?!” Well, that didn’t sound ridiculously excited at all. She sighed as George chuckled and Elizabeth grinned triumphantly.

“Yes, so…I sincerely hope that at least one of you got your act together on that car ride.”

“Say yes, and she _might_ leave you alone.” George, having finished his sandwich in frankly impressive time, had wiped his hands and was now unstrapping a wriggling Ursula from her pushchair as she held out her little arms to him imploringly. “Hello, angel. Daddy missed you last night, yes he did.”

“Well?” If Caroline had hoped that Elizabeth might be distracted by George talking nonsense to Ursula, who babbled back happily, then she was sadly mistaken.

“Fine. We’re going out for dinner on Saturday.”

“Yes!” 

~

“Don’t look at me like that.” In reply, Horace waggled his fat bottom, but kept on staring at her from his position on the bed, surrounded by a good 70% of her wardrobe.

“Yip!”

“I just need to find the right thing to wear. It’s not my fault I haven’t been on a date in ages.”

“Yip!”

“Well, not ages. But, those weren’t proper – Oh, why am I justifying myself to a dog?!” She turned back to rummaging in the drawer. Should she wear some fancy underwear? No, not on a first date! Ugh, this was ridiculous. Despite what she’d said to Horace, Caroline had in fact been on a few dates over the last couple of years, but only first dates. Somehow, they’d never seemed to quite catch on. _But that’s because they weren’t Dwight Enys_ , whispered a voice which sounded annoyingly like Elizabeth.

It was true that Dwight…intrigued her more than most, well, just about any of the men she’d met recently, but she wasn’t going to start acting like a lovestruck schoolgirl about it. Shaking herself, she turned to the pile of clothes Horace was just about to try to lie in.

“ _Don’t_ even think about it!”

Caroline wasn’t a great believer in being ‘fashionably late’ but she had no intention of being the first one there, so she’d waited until about five minutes after they’d agreed to meet before heading in. At Dwight’s request, she’d picked the restaurant since he didn’t really know the area, and she’d chosen a nice little Greek taverna which was a reasonable distance between both of their flats. That absolutely wasn’t to make it easy for her to make a quick getaway if the whole thing turned out to be horribly embarrassing.

Of course, if it did then work would be incredibly awkward. No, there wasn’t a huge amount of crossover between her specialism and his – even in burns cases, she didn’t tend to see the patients until they were well out of the A&E – but they had the same friendship group. Verity and Francis had both known him longer than they had her, and George and Elizabeth had a bit more professional contact with him. If this whole thing turned out badly then it would affect more than just her.

Oh, for Heaven’s sake! She was just arriving for their first date and she was already working out the implications of some future break up. Tutting, she drew herself up and strolled as casually as she could into the restaurant. Dwight waved at her with an endearing awkwardness from a cosy table in the corner.

“Hello. You look nice.” From anyone else it might be a bit of trite thing to say, but Dwight looked so sincere that Caroline, to her horror, felt a blush threatening.

“Thank you. Did you find the place okay?” Well, she wasn’t the one to talk about trite. He managed to dart around the table to pull out her chair for her and she smiled as she sat.

“Yes. It’s a nice little place. Do you come here often? Oh God, what a dull thing to ask.” Caroline laughed at this impromptu bit of honesty, reflecting exactly what she’d just been thinking about her own conversation. Dwight glanced at her for a moment, as if gauging if she were mocking him. Thankfully, he seemed to see she wasn’t, and his mouth twitched in a shy smile.

“Yes, I do, as it happens.” Just proving this, the owner himself came over, greeting her with enthusiasm.

“Ah, if it isn’t the lovely doctor! And a friend, tonight!”

“Hello, Stavros.” Stavros’ name was actually John, but he’d adopted his Greek grandfather’s name for branding purposes, something Caroline had learned from his wife one evening over a glass of retsina.

“Now, what can we get you to drink, hmm?” Dwight ordered a beer, and Caroline a mineral water.

“I’m driving,” she explained.

Their funny little exchange when she arrived seemed to have broken the ice somewhat, and the conversation flowed a bit more freely. They chatted about their days – Dwight had had a fairly quiet shift for a Saturday, it seemed; apart from a brawl over a football match which had resulted in a busted nose.

“Under 10s?!”

“Yep.” Dwight laughed before taking a sip of his beer. “It seemed one of the dads took exception to his son getting a yellow card and got in the ref’s face.”

“He punched the referee?”

“No! The ref’s in the Army reserves, he stuck one on the dad!”

“Oh my God!” This segued into a couple of other amusing stories from Dwight’s time in A&E depts., and they had to hurriedly scan their menus when the waitress appeared to ask if they were ready. She hid a smile as Dwight frowned his way through the pronunciation of _fasolaki me kotopoulo_ , before ordering her own favourite.

“So, were you born in Cornwall?”

“Yes, although my mum was from London, originally, and I’ve been back and forth between there and here my whole life. I lived with Uncle Ray most school holidays.” She could sense the question in his eyes – the same question most people asked when she told them about Uncle Ray. For some reason, it seemed quite natural to tell him, perhaps because he’d chosen not to actually ask. “Mum and Dad died when I was 10, a house fire.”

“Oh, God. Caroline, I’m so sorry.”  

“I was staying with a family friend for her daughter’s birthday.”

“That’s – You know, doing the kind of job I do, I should be better at talking about these sort of things, but…I’m really not.”

“Me neither. Not that I see the sort of things you do. Botox and eczema not exactly on the same level.” She’d meant it as a sort of a joke, trying to get away from a subject a bit too sombre for a first date, but it came out a bit lamely, and Dwight looked slightly alarmed.

“No, I – “ Fortunately, their food arrived, cutting the slightly awkward knot of conversation they’d managed to get tangled in. Dwight took advantage of the distraction, and the look of boyish delight as his plate was put down in front of him was adorable. “Oh, this smells amazing.”

“Have you never had it before?”

“No, I – er – I’ve actually only been to a Greek restaurant once in my life, at medical school.”

“Dr Enys! How uncultured!” He realised she was teasing him this time and smiled, cutting into his chicken. It did smell divine. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted him giving her own plate a disapproving glance. “What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I don’t know how you can eat that stuff. It’s like battered rubber bands!”

“Well, I was going to offer to share, but I suppose that means more for me!” She bit into her calamari ring with exaggerated relish. It was actually melt-in-the-mouth beautiful.

They didn’t manage to get onto any more awkward subjects after that, thank God, Caroline steering the conversation towards the typical doctor-talk of medical school and hellish foundation years, moving on to the sort of entertaining stories all medics had. They lingered over dessert – a double order of tiramisu – and coffees, Dwight insisting on paying the bill, although Caroline would have been happy to split. She prided herself on her independence, but she wasn’t going to turn down a bit of old-fashioned chivalry, especially not from someone so charming.

“Do you want a lift?” They’d stepped out into a warm-ish night, just a light breeze trailing in somewhere from the direction of the coast.

“No, I’ll call a cab, you’d end up going back on yourself. Thank you, though.” He bit his lip, suddenly looking shy again, not to mention incredibly attractive.

“It’s curious, Dr Enys. When you talk about your work, you’re so assured, but the rest of the time…”

“Well, you see,” he turned toward her on the pavement, into the light of the street-lamp, and she was reminded of that little moment in the car. “I focused all of my energy on my studies, and then work, I’ve never made much time for a social life. So, I don’t really know people, _especially_ women _,_ as anything but patients.”

“Well.” Once again, Caroline admired his honesty, his handsome face open and gentle. “Sometimes I think that I don’t know people – _especially_ men – at all.”

“In that case – “ he stepped closer, within her personal space, but Caroline felt no desire to move back. Indeed, she found herself leaning slightly forward to meet him. “Like I said – what would you like to know?”

Caroline might have had a witty answer this time around, but when Dwight bent and pressed his lips to hers, it completely disappeared.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight’s day gets off to a bad start…and it’s all downhill from there.

_HONKKKKK_

Dwight jumped as the horn blared, turning to see a red Ferrari startlingly close behind him, but only because it seemed to be trying to drive over the pedestrian pathway in the car park to get to a space opposite. He half-leapt out of the way, and the car pulled in. A tall, dark-haired man in his 40s got out, locking the door with little more than an imperious glance back at Dwight. Under ordinary circumstances, Dwight might have objected to being nearly run over, but he was not only too astonished by the man’s behaviour, he was also in too good a mood.

Admittedly, he might have actually seen the car coming if he hadn’t been so distracted. He’d been in a bit of a dream for the last couple of days, since Caroline had waved off his taxi outside the restaurant. Like the smitten fool he was, he’d twisted around to watch her until the car turned a corner. She’d stood out in the twilight, golden hair bright against her simple red dress. It wasn’t until he got home that he’d realised she’d watched the car drive away in return.

It was only Monday, so he wasn’t sure if that was too soon to ask her out on another date – or rather, ask her out on a date for the first time, since she’d done the inviting last time. Dwight wasn’t used to being asked out by women, and definitely not ones as beautiful and fascinating as Caroline. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her that relationships weren’t exactly his strong suit – he’d only had one truly serious one, and that had ended…

“Are you all right?” He was startled out of his thoughts by George’s voice. He’d made it into the hospital lobby, following the man who’d nearly knocked him down. “I saw your near miss out there.”

“Oh, er, yeah, I’m fine. Just got a bit of a fright.” He glanced after the driver, but he’d disappeared down one of the corridors which splintered off from the reception. “Do you know who that was?”

“Oh, yes.” George pursed his lips, disapproving. “Francis Bassett – he’s one of the hospital directors. Not a doctor. Some sort of pen-pusher. It’s not the first time he’s nearly caused an accident in that midlife-crisis-mobile of his. Arrogant bastard. And I work with surgeons, so I know from arrogant.”

Dwight laughed. He knew the type – both from his previous work in the NHS, and his time with MSF. Charity higher-ups were often the same, treating the organisations they were in charge of like their own personal fiefdoms, believing they could do what they wanted because they were ‘helping people’, despite the fact that they rarely went near a patient or anyone in need. Primarily because most of them weren’t doctors, or anything at all, so far as Dwight had ever been able to tell.

“So, are you on your way in or out?”

“In. I’ve just dropped Valentine off at nursery.”

“Elizabeth not with you?”

“She came in earlier. They had a bit of a rush on.” George smiled. “If you’re hoping to avoid her, she’ll probably be finished by about 3.”

“Avoid her?” Dwight frowned. “Why would I want to avoid her?”

“Because you’ll get the third degree about your date with Caroline on Saturday night.”

“How did – “

“Oh, she got that out of Caroline days ago.” Obviously sensing that Dwight was slightly taken aback, George’s expression softened. “Elizabeth’s not trying to interfere, she’s just pleased for Caroline, that’s all. Caroline didn’t really know anyone when she came here, and her Uncle is an old friend of Elizabeth’s dad. They’re close. She’s Ursula’s godmother.”

“Oh, I see.” It made sense. He couldn’t really imagine Elizabeth as the busybody type, and he felt badly for thinking otherwise, no matter how briefly. Caroline had certainly given him the impression that she was good friends with the obstetrician. He elected to change the subject. “She’s very cute, by the way. Ursula, I mean. People couldn’t tear themselves away at your party.”

“Yes, she is.” George smiled fondly. They’d begun to walk into the main body of the hospital, towards the staff wing. Dwight still had a short while before he needed to sign in for his shift. “She’s got us both wrapped around her little finger. Valentine was the same.”

“How did you and Elizabeth end up working in the same hospital, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“No, not at all. We met here, actually. I did the first part of my registration in Bath, but came down here to finish. First week on the job, I got called in for an epidural and…there she was.” He smiled, remembering. “Took me six months to work up the courage to ask her out. Wish I hadn’t wasted all that time, to be honest. What’s the point in waiting when you know what you want? Well, this is me. Got a budget meeting. I’ll see you later.”

With that George disappeared in the direction of the administrative offices. Dwight stood a minute watching the double doors slowly swing to stop. He had a feeling that George’s comment about not waiting hadn’t been solely referring to himself and Elizabeth.

~

Dwight stretched, hearing a popping noise from somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder. He would go and have a sit down, he thought. It hadn’t exactly been busy today, just a steady flow of one patient after another. Nothing especially serious, thank God, although a man with chest pains had been admitted for further observation, but there had barely been a pause.  

As he was signing off a patient form, the phone rang on the desk and Rosina answered. She listened intently to whatever the person on the other end was saying, and the way her mouth set into a grim line gave Dwight a deep sense of foreboding. He was proven right when she hung up.

“There’s been a scaffolding collapse on a building site. At least 20 casualties. First ones should be arriving in the next 10 minutes. Don’t know how many are coming here yet.”

“All right.” Dwight took a deep breath, steeling himself. He’d dealt with mass-casualty incidents before and he’d had significant training. As the senior physician in the department today, he needed to take charge. He could do this. “Activate the MCI procedures. Call in everyone nearby, and see if other departments can spare any qualified personnel.”

Rosina gave a sharp nod and picked up the phone again – she’d be paging just about every doctor in the hospital with the emergency notification. Dwight headed off to round up every spare staff member he could find in the A&E, hurrying them to clear as many beds as they could – getting all the patients who were to be admitted or discharged processed as quickly as possible in the time left, which wasn’t much.

The estimate hadn’t been far off – about fifteen minutes after the phone call, they were alerted that the ambulances had begun to arrive. Just two to begin with, but there would be more, he knew. Thankfully, the extra staff had also started to appear. Mostly nurses, but a few doctors, as well – Dwight saw Hugh Armitage and Malcolm McNeil, and some others whose names he still didn’t know. With another deep breath, he strode out to the ambulance bay doors.

Everything after that seemed to happen both too quickly and in slow motion. The injuries were just what would be expected from a building collapse, but that made them no less distressing. Crush injuries, broken limbs, head traumas – and not all members of the building crew. Debris had fallen onto pedestrians on the street.

It seemed the first reports had underestimate the number of casualties – some had gone to the Royal Cornwall and a few with relatively minor injuries had been taken further afield – but over the course of the next few hours at least 20 patients arrived, although Dwight struggled to keep count, even though he was nominally in charge of co-ordination. There were more pressing issues to attend to – like the young builder with a metal rod through his torso, or the other who had fallen almost thirty feet, or the little girl whose leg had been crushed by a scaffolding pole. After some struggle to stabilise the men, both were whisked away for emergency surgery. Hugh stepped in to take charge of the girl, also hurrying her away to theatre.

Dwight ended up calling time of death on two patients in a row – one who had been struck on the head by a falling plank of wood, and another, an older man whose heart simply gave out with the shock of his injuries. At the edge of his awareness, he heard at least two other TODs being called – the second he recognised as being in George’s voice.

Shortly after that George appeared at his side to tend to another worker with fall injuries – he was still conscious somehow, and in severe pain. Ironically, that was a good sign under the circumstances, indicating against paralysis. The patient was also very distressed, by everything that had happened, and by being strapped onto the spinal board, his head held still by the cervical collar.

“What’s – what’s going on? Ah Jesus! It hurts so much.”

“Shhhh, it’s all right. What’s your name?” Dwight did his best to keep his voice soothing.

“Danny – ah – oh God.”

“All right, Danny, just try to breathe slowly.” As he did his best to assess the young man’s – he couldn’t be more than 20 – condition, Dwight saw George prepare a syringe, inserting into Danny’s drip and injecting the contents, eyes on the monitors at all times. Relatively quickly, his vitals stabilised a little, blood pressure and heart rate decreasing closer to a normal rate, the opioid acting quickly. His injuries were still severe, however. Dwight was certain both his legs were broken, and quite probably his pelvis; he was struggling to breath in a way which suggested the possibility of a collapsed lung.

“He needs an x-ray, and a CT scan.” Dwight said.

“We still need to get his BP down.” George rummaged in the cabinet, extracting another syringe. A dose of ACE inhibitors did enough, and Danny could be admitted for further treatment.

By the time everything began to tail off, Dwight had no idea what time of day it was. Once the last casualty from the collapse had been wheeled away into the main body of the hospital, he slumped against the nurses’ desk, all of the energy and adrenaline draining out of him. Nearby, a nurse was cleaning blood from the floor. There were still a few patients receiving treatment – some not from the collapse, but they were being treated by reserve staff who had been called in to take over.

Although he’d called TOD on three patients all told, he’d paid little attention to the actual passage of time, his mind on other things. Blearily, he squinted at the large clock about the desk. It was half past eight at night, about seven hours since they’d got the call. With some difficulty he made it out into the corridor, sitting down with his back against the wall. It was blessedly cool; drawing up his knees, he dropped his forehead onto his folded arms.

He felt as if a weight was settling on his shoulders, and – uninvited – his brain began to conjure up memories. Sparse wooden shacks used as hospital wards, blood permanently ingrained in the floor planks;  little malnourished bodies on pathetic excuses for hospital beds; bombed out buildings; remains pulled out of homes crushed by mudslides; a knock on the door in the middle of the night, blue lights flickering through the glass…

“Dwight? Dwight? Are you okay?” Lost in his unwelcome thoughts, Dwight was startled. He looked up to find Rosina crouched next to him. She gently put her hand on his shoulder. “That was…pretty awful.”

“Yeah..” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and it came away wet. Oh Lord, he’d been crying. He blinked a few times, and saw that Rosina’s eyes were also red-rimmed. She was relatively recently qualified, this was almost certainly the most severe situation she’d ever been in. “You – er – you did really well back there.”

“I tried. You were amazing. You were so calm.” She smiled a little, still rubbing his shoulder gently. Unexpectedly, she leant forward and pressed her forehead against his for a moment before quickly standing up, wiping her own eyes and disappearing back into the ward. Dwight glanced in the other direction, just in time to see Caroline turn and walk away through the doors. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline Penvenen is a successful, capable doctor…and she also just might be an idiot.

“Killewarren has been in the Penvenen family since 1621, when Rafe Penvenen was granted the estate by King James I in recognition of his military service…” Caroline let the tour guide’s voice drift off, only vaguely registering the familiar words about how the house had survived the Civil War and Rafe’s son William had sheltered royalists behind its excellent defences…Eventually the voice disappeared as the tour group reached the end of the corridor where they would go down into the old kitchens and learn about the ancient range and how many servants the house once had.

By some miracle, the Penvenen family had managed to hold onto their ancestral home, but like almost every other country estate nowadays, it was open to the public. Caroline had got quite used to the visitors when she was a little girl, creeping up to the section of gallery which led into the private apartments to peep down at them trooping through the great hall, gawping at the paintings and being told not to touch the antiques by the attendants. When she was a bit more grown up, and given free reign of the house, she’d even joined in with them on occasion, playing with the other children or taking a bit of naughty joy in clattering around in the old servant’s corridor upstairs when the guide told their group it was allegedly haunted.

It seemed like another world, growing up in a house like this, something she hadn’t properly realised until she went to university, where even some of her poshest fellow students couldn’t dream of such a thing. She’d found out to her surprise that the Trenwith Hotel a few miles away had once been the estate of the Poldark family, sold off by Francis and Verity’s great-grandparents after the Great War, and that Cardew, now some sort of religious retreat, had been built by George’s ancestors. The Warleggans, having made their money in banking, hadn’t gone bust, however, and instead moved into a jaw-dropping townhouse in Truro, where George’s mother and grandmother still lived. Even George and Elizabeth’s gorgeous place wasn’t a patch on it.

The introductory speech of another tour guide startled Caroline out of her reverie. How long had she been standing there, staring at the small semi-circular window high above the main entrance? Thankfully, she was mostly concealed from those in the hall, unless someone knew she was there. Again, she heard the words about how long the house had been in the family – but for how much longer? Aside from the cost and effort of managing the place, she was the last Penvenen. Once she inherited the house – and she prayed that would not be for a long time – it had nowhere to go after that. If she had children, it would still be in the _family_ , she supposed, just without the Penvenen name.

Of course, she’d never thought much about having children, and considering the state of her private life, it didn’t look much likely in the immediate future. Here she was, moping unproductively about her Uncle’s house on her day off in the wake of yet another romantic disaster.

Romantic disaster? That was stretching it a bit. She could hardly call a few conversations, one date and one kiss – God, a really good kiss – a ‘romance’. It was barely even a dalliance, to use a word straight out of her aunt’s collection of old _Mills & Boon_ novels.

At a gentle nudge to her ankle, she glanced down to find Horace snuffling at her leg. He plopped his fat bottom on the carpet and looked up at her expectantly, his whole body jiggling as he tried to wag his little stump of a tail while sitting down.

“What, then, my precious? Do you want a walk, hmm?” Horace was generally a lazy creature, his preferred leisure activity being lying on the most comfortable surface he could find – aside from eating, of course. However, he seemed to like Killewarren, the gardens being rather more interesting than the plain little park around the corner from Caroline’s flat. It meant mingling with the visitors, but that was all right – dogs were allowed in the gardens so she just looked like another day tripper.

After he’d made friends with an Alsatian at the water gardens, been petted by and starred in the selfies of three young American girls, and weed on a stone bench right next to a very unimpressed old lady, Caroline took Horace on a loop around the large gravel driveway-come-car-park. They were just on their way back, Horace puffing and snorting in that way which meant he’d had quite enough exercise for today – or this month – when there was a shout from up ahead.

“Help! Somebody call an ambulance!” Pausing to scoop up Horace, who snuffed in indignation, Caroline hurried toward the voice. Just by the entrance to the estate’s old chapel, a middle aged man was half-slumped against the stone wall, a woman about his age crouched next to him. Caroline dropped to her knees beside them, setting Horace on his feet as gently as possible. She was vaguely aware of him tottering off behind her, but she didn’t worry. He wouldn’t go far.

“What happened?” The woman looked at her, bewildered and panicked. Caroline took hold of her arm, trying to ground her, make her focus. “I’m a doctor. Tell me what happened.”

“He – he just collapsed. He said his chest hurt, but I just thought that was because we’d been walking all day.”

“Does he have any medical conditions?” Caroline took the man’s pulse – it was thready and weak, but it was there. He was sweaty and pale, and breathing heavily. His eyelids flickered but he seemed barely conscious.

“A mild heart murmur, but it’s never given him any problems before.”

“I’ve called an ambulance.” One of the tour guides appeared behind Caroline, holding a mobile phone.

“Are you still on the line?” The guide nodded and Caroline held out her hand for the phone. “Hello, this is Dr Caroline Penvenen. I’ve got a male, 50s, previous history of heart murmur, pulse weak, breathing difficulties and semi-conscious. What’s his name?”

“Oh.” It took the woman a moment to realise Caroline was addressing her. “Peter.”

“Peter? Peter, can you hear me?” A wheeze which may have been a response, and his eyelids flickered again. Caroline handed the phone back to the attendant. Another had joined her and Caroline turned to him. “Is there a first aid kit at the front desk? Does it have aspirin?”

“Er, yes.”

“Bring it, please.”

By the time the ambulance arrived, thankfully promptly, Caroline had put Peter in the recovery position. She hadn’t used in the aspirin in the end, partly because he was not quite conscious enough to take it, but also because she wasn’t entirely convinced he was having a heart attack.

The paramedics agreed, and indeed once they’d got him hooked up to the monitors in the rig, his heart rate seemed to be slightly improved. Peter’s wife – Julie – held tightly to his hand as Caroline and one of the medics worked to make sure he was stable. Caroline hadn’t dealt with anything close to an emergency – bar once giving a girl at a nightclub an epi pen – since her foundation training, but she found that adrenaline, well perhaps not quite adrenaline but something like it, had taken over.

“Where we headed?” The medic called up to the driver.

“ETA 10 mins. St Neot’s A&E.” 

~

The maternity ward was blessedly cool – and quiet – when Caroline pushed open the doors. Quiet moans emanated from one of the rooms, along with a gentle male voice – whether medic or unusually chilled out expectant father Caroline couldn’t say. A nurse popped up from behind the desk, startling her.

“Sorry! Oh, hello, Dr Penvenen. Are you wanting Elizabeth – Dr. Warleggan, I mean.”

“If she’s free.” She wasn’t really sure why she’d made her way up here, but she was feeling a bit off and instinct had taken her to her best friend.

“She is. Or, at least, I think she is. Her and Verity are out in the staff corridor, last I saw them. They’re taking a break.” Passing several more rooms, the sounds of voices –cursing, cooing, the cries of newborns – floating around inside, Caroline made her way to small, discreet door marked ‘Hospital Personnel Only’. When the nurse had said Elizabeth and Verity were in the corridor, she hadn’t been kidding. The two women sat on the floor, backs against the wall, legs extended in front of them. Caroline pushed aside a recollection of the scene she’d witnessed in the A&E corridor a few days earlier.

“Caroline! What are you doing here? I thought you were off today.” Elizabeth frowned, sipping her cheap vending machine tea.

“Oh, I was.” Caroline replied airily. “But what’s up with you two?”

“Two breech births this morning.” Verity replied. “Everyone okay, but both mums stressed out as Hell.”

“And then an overly-keen dad with an iPhone tripped me up and I fell in the birthing pool.” Elizabeth pursed her lips as Verity chuckled. Even in her odd mood, Caroline couldn’t help a grin at the thought of that. Now she looked, she could see Elizabeth’s hair was wet. “I hate water births.”

“Poor baby.” Caroline patted her on the shoulder as she sat down next to her. After all the morning’s excitement, she suddenly felt very drained. Elizabeth looked like she was about to say something when her phone trilled and she slipped it out of the top pocket of her scrubs. Her face took on a familiar affectionate expression as she read the message. “Oh, love’s young dream…”

“Oh, shush. George is just asking what I want him to make for dinner tonight.”

“Handsome, rich, a doctor, good dad and he can cook.” Verity shook her head. “The rest of us might as well just give up. Elizabeth’s won.”

“Stop it. Here, watch this.” Elizabeth fiddled with the screen for a moment and Caroline and Verity both leant in to look. The video began to play, blurred for a second as it zoomed in on Elizabeth, kneeling on the floor of what looked like her living room, holding Ursula up in front of her.

 _“Go on, go to Daddy. Go to Daddy.”_ She gently lifted her hands from under the baby’s arms, but kept them close by.

 _“Come on, Ursula, come to me. Come here.”_ George appeared at the far side of the frame, crouched down a couple of feet away, arms open in invitation. Slowly, Ursula took a wobbly step forward, then another, then another, Elizabeth keeping close behind her.

 _“Go on, Ursula, clever girl_.” A third voice from behind the camera. Morwenna.

With the encouragement of her parents and her cousin, Ursula tottered the final couple of steps, to be scooped up in George’s arms, giggling delightedly at her achievement.

“Oh, she’s so cute! And she’s walking early!” Verity cooed.

“Earlier than Valentine, although it didn’t take him long to get going. He went straight from first steps to 100m sprint.” She laughed fondly, putting her phone away. The three of them sat quietly for a while, apart from Verity ‘yeuch’-ing at the dregs of her tea, before Elizabeth seemed to remember something. “Caro, you never told us why you’re here.”

“Oh, it’s a long story…” She explained about her visit to Killewarren, and Peter and Julie.

“Wow, it’s a good job you were there. Heart attack, was it?”

“No, angina, by the look of it. He was looking a lot better when I left, but they’ve sent him to the cardiac ward for proper tests to get to the bottom of it.”

“Well. Still. Angina might not be a heart attack, but it’s no laughing matter. You really did brilliantly.”

“Bet Dwight was impressed.” Verity teased. Caroline must have made a face, because the other two immediately frowned at her.

“What’s the matter?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Caroline attempted to affect a casual air, even though she knew they’d see through it. It was habit, and a difficult one to break. “I just think Dwight and I aren’t destined for anything.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, him cosying up to a cute nurse two days after our first date might have something to do with it.”

“Dwight?!” Verity shook her head. “No way. There must be some mistake.”

“No mistake. I saw it with my own two eyes.” She told them about going down to A&E after hearing about the scaffolding collapse, and seeing Dwight and Rosina in a close embrace on the floor of the corridor. It had been pure instinct which sent her down there, remembering the slightly haunted look she’d seen flicker over his light eyes when he spoke about his time with MSF, and his reaction to the stab victim the day she’d bumped into him in the coffee shop. Walking into the corridor, she’d stopped short, feeling stupid and presumptive and a dozen other things; so she’d done what she always did when confronted with difficult feelings – she’d walked away.

“So.” Verity frowned. “You’ve decided to call it a day with a very eligible man you clearly like very much…because you saw a colleague give him a quick hug after an extremely stressful shift?”

“Er…” Hearing it put like that, Caroline recalled the off-hand way she’d dealt with Dwight over admitting Peter, giving him purely the cold facts before striding away without so much as a by-your-leave. She looked at her friends, at their incredulous expressions, and fought the urge to put her head in her hands.      


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight diagnoses his problem…but can he treat it?

Dwight felt the spit of rain on his forehead and tutted, wiping it away. Wandering the streets miserably in the rain, moping over a woman. Great. Not pathetic at all. It might be less so if there was anything to really mope about. A nice coffee, and a nice date, and a _very_ nice kiss. Still wasn’t much to be getting himself in a state over, even if it had all ended in disaster.

He remembered the disinterested glance Caroline had given him as she’d scribbled her signature on Peter Lowe’s admission form, barely acknowledging whatever he’d said to her. As she’d turned and walked away, he’d watched her with a sad sense of finality. It was his fault, really. He should have got up and run after her the day of the scaffolding collapse, explained that it wasn’t what she thought. It was hardly unreasonable for her to misunderstand, he supposed. She’d teased him about the nurses having a crush on him over their dinner the other night, although then he’d assumed she wasn’t being serious.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have let Rosina embrace him like that, despite the circumstances. He’d thought nothing of it in the moment, in the fraught state he was in, but she had indicated that she might be interested in him. Dwight had done nothing to encourage her, and she certainly hadn’t pushed the issue, but he still wondered if he had acted wrongly somehow. It wasn’t like he had much experience on the romantic front. Bar a couple of brief interludes with colleagues at MSF, he’d had no involvement with anyone since Keren.

Keren….

Shaking his head, Dwight took notice of his surroundings for the first time in a while. Sitting in the flat on his day off, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on the TV, or a book, or finally sorting out his Aunt’s effects. So he’d pulled on a jacket and gone for a walk, ambling aimlessly around Truro. While he was from Cornwall originally, he hadn’t been to the city since he was a child, and it was really time that he learned a bit more of a his way around. In the weeks he’d been here, he’d barely been anywhere except the hospital, the Tesco Extra just round the corner from the flat, and the pub.

Now, he found himself outside a small sports stadium, a sign proclaiming it to be the home ground of Truro City FC. A smaller notice stated that today’s practice was open to the public. Vague memories of old school five-a-side had him heading through the gate, eventually finding his way to the top of the stands. They were Spartan, simple wooden folding seats arranged in four stepped rows.

He wasn’t the only spectator, although he was damn close. A couple of teenage boys sat towards the other end, passing what looked suspiciously like a can of lager between them. A woman closer to unwrapped a sandwich and handed it to a younger child sat next to her. Two middle-aged men, not together, watched the pitch more intently, although not as intently as the only other person there. A young woman with short hair stood leaning on the rail closest to the pitch, wearing one of those seemingly trendy see-through waterproof coats. By the movement of her head, she seemed to be tracking one player in particular, a young sandy haired man currently in possession of the ball. Dwight could swear he recognised her, and was proven right when, as he stepped down into the stands the metal stair creaked and she turned to look. It was Morwenna Chynoweth. She frowned at him for a moment in surprise and then smiled, waving.

Dwight wasn’t sure he was in the mood to talk to anyone, but he came down to join her anyway. He was surprised to find it was actually quite sheltered down there, the persistent light rain kept off by the overhang of the stand.

“Hello! What brings you here?”

“Oh, er, just find my way around. Don’t know why I came in, really.” He leant on the barrier, watching the players. Morwenna still seemed to have her eye on the same one. “Boyfriend?”

“What? Oh, God, no!” She laughed. “No, no. Patient. I’m filling in as team physio. The usual one was one of my tutors at uni, but he’s visiting his daughter in Australia. Conor there, he works on the family farm and had a fall in the yard. He’s the team’s best player, and they’re in line for promotion next season.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t – “

“No, it’s okay. I’ll admit I don’t look like a Southern League football fan. I treat sports patients all the time, but I don’t pretend to know much about it – bar what it does to your joints, of course.”

They watched the practice in companionable silence for a while. Dwight hadn’t had much to do with Morwenna outside of George & Elizabeth’s party, bar bumping into her in the coffee shop once or twice, and seeing her with Elizabeth outside a café close to the hospital, but he liked her. Like her cousin, she was friendly and warm, and seemed to have a natural ability to put people at their ease.

“So, are you settling in?” The question took him by surprise and, to be honest, he had to think about it for a moment. He liked St. Neot’s and its staff, and the work, despite the worst parts of it; but, after spending the last few years travelling all over the world with MSF, he had been finding it odd adjusting to the less chaotic schedule and environment. To the modern, state-of-the-art facilities, coffee machines and working telephones, clean linens on every bed, and plentiful supplies of drugs and dressings and everything else. Then there was his whirlwind non-romance with Caroline, of course. Not that he intended to offload any of this onto Morwenna.

“Adjusting.” She smiled, perhaps understanding his deliberately vague answer. A little more time passed, the players lining up to practice their free kicks. Now that he looked properly, he could see the player Morwenna had been watching – Connor, she’d said – was slightly favouring one leg. He did have good form, however, and scored a neat goal, the ball arcing into to top left corner of the net, around the reaching hand of the keeper.

“George says there’s going to be an official investigation into that scaffolding collapse.” Dwight certainly hadn’t expected her to mention that, and it brought up a lot of thoughts he’d been trying to avoid. Not that he could keep that up. George was right – both the police and the Health and Safety Executive were involved, and Dwight had already been contacted by their representatives regarding the gathering of medical evidence. There was to be an inquest at the very least, maybe even criminal charges, and he’d been told there was a distinct possibility that he could be called as an expert witness. It wasn’t a thought he relished, but if there had been wrong doing then he was prepared to do what he could to help uncover it.

“Yeah.”

“Eight people killed, and all because somebody might have cut some corners to save a bit of money.” Morwenna shook her head. Then, she sniffed and rubbed at her eye. “Sorry, it’s not that – although that is awful. One of my patients died on Monday.”

“Oh.” That took him aback. Morwenna was a physiotherapist, they generally did not treat anything which was likely to kill anyone. She obviously noticed his confusion.

“Like I said, this is just temporary.” She waved vague hand towards the pitch. “Aside from everything at the hospital, my main specialty is palliative care. I’m on staff with Cornwall Hospice.”

“Wow.” Dwight had seen plenty of death and loss in his work, but really the whole point of his job was to _save_ lives. He didn’t know how those who worked in fields like oncology and terminal care coped, knowing that there was nothing they could do to save their patients. For someone not trained as a physician, all of whom knew that they could witness death in their practice, regardless of their field, it must be even harder. “I really admire people who do that sort of work. Honestly.”

“Oh.” She rubbed her eyes again, shaking her head. “It was George who got me involved, really. He does pain management for them, but some people don’t want to spend what time they have left drugged up to the hilt. Sometimes, physical therapy can help with that a little, or to keep them active for as long as possible.”

“What was your patient like?”

“She had breast cancer. She’d beaten it once, but it had come back and spread to her spine. They’d been hopeful originally, but none of the treatment even touched it. She was only 47. My mum’s 48.”

“God.”

“She was so – I don’t know – weirdly positive about it. During one of our last sessions she told me that the thing she really regretted – besides leaving her family and friends behind, of course – was all the little things she’d never done. Chances she’d never taken, or people she’d fallen out of touch with, arguments she’d left unsettled.” Morwenna paused, glancing back the football as if she’d forgotten about it. Dwight almost had. “She’s not the first to say something like that, but it really stuck with me for some reason. Oh God, sorry, I don’t know why I’ve told you all this. You were just out for a walk and you’ve ended up with me offloading on you.”

“No, it’s fine, really. Really.” He certainly hadn’t been expecting to hear any of that when he’d stepped out of the flat, or when he’d decided to wander into the football stadium. He was oddly glad that he had, though. 

~

“Another long one.” Dr Martin leant against the door of his office, catching Dwight on his way out.

“Oh, yes. I’ve had worse, though.”

“We all have.” Dr Martin was the A&E director, a kindly man in his late 40s. As the administrative head of the department, he didn’t get as much time with patients as once did, or as he might have liked, but from what Dwight had seen, he was a competent, thoughtful medic. He was also an efficient manager of people, unlike quite a few members of NHS management Dwight had had the misfortune to work with over the years. “Look, I won’t keep you, but I just wanted to say that you’ve been doing some really good work since you came here. I’m very glad we took you on.”

“Oh.” Dwight didn’t know what to say. “Well, er, thank you.”

“No problem. Good night.” With that, he disappeared back into his office and Dwight was left standing the corridor.

That unexpected bit of a morale boost certainly improved his mood, and helped him feel more confident in his plan. He’d decided to speak to Caroline – providing she would speak to him, of course – and, at the very least, clear the air with her. It had seemed to him that there was the chance of something special between them, and he wasn’t going to sit back and let it be thrown away because of a misunderstanding. Maybe Caroline wouldn’t want to take the romantic side of things any further, and he’d respect that, but they had to work together, they had mutual friends, it was no good if they were going to be awkward around each other.

He’d been trying to decide how exactly to approach her. She didn’t seem especially keen to speak to him, and he’d barely caught a glimpse of her since she’d brought that patient into A&E. That was hardly unusual; they worked at opposite ends of the hospital and usually had little crossover between patients. He could just drop in on her in her office, he supposed, but that might not go down too well. Hanging around the coffee shop in his free time hoping to catch a glimpse of her was rather stalker-ish. They’d exchanged phone numbers, but this wasn’t something he wanted to do over call or text. As he rounded the corner onto his street, he found that the problem had solved itself. Caroline was standing under the street light outside the house.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” She fiddled with the strap of her bag, glancing down at her feet. “I, um, I don’t really know why I’m here. Except, I – “

“Come in.” The words had just come out, and Dwight rather thought they might be a bit forward, but Caroline didn’t look too perturbed.

“Um. Okay. Standing out on the street is probably not the best place to talk. Especially this street.” She wrinkled her nose at a pair of twitching curtains across the road, which immediately stilled at Caroline’s glance. Not really knowing what else to say at the moment, Dwight turned to unlock the front door, hearing Caroline heels click on the pavement as she followed him. She wasn’t too close behind, but he caught the faint smell of her perfume.

Once they were inside, Caroline took his invitation to sit down, glancing curiously around and the still half unpacked boxes and sparse décor. Not exactly what he might have envisioned bringing Caroline home to be like, but here they were. They said nothing while he made some tea, clattering the cups a bit more than was probably necessary, in order to fill the quiet, and stave off having to think of exactly what to say.

He sat down on the sofa with Caroline, not too close; she didn’t move away, which he took as encouraging. When she laughed, he took a good look at the mug he’d handed her.

 _Please do not confuse your Google search with my medical degree_.

“Oh, yes. My aunt bought me that. She’d been keeping it in storage the whole time I was away.”

“Uncle Ray bought me one that says ‘My favourite patient bought me this mug’.” She smiled, and Dwight laughed softly. They said nothing more for a few moments, and then both tried to talk at once.

“I – “

“Look – “

“You first.” Dwight nodded. He still wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say to her, or rather how precisely to put it.

“Very well, Dr Enys.” Her mouth quirked at the use of his title. “It seems that I have been a bit hasty. Or, as Elizabeth put it, I’ve been ‘a complete bloody idiot’. I – I thought badly of you, when I shouldn’t have.”

“I should have cleared things up when I had the chance.”

“Please, don’t try to let me off lightly. I’ve been indulged enough in my life.” She paused, taking another drink of her tea. “Certain things in my life have made me…distrustful. So, even though everything I have seen and heard about you tells me you’re exactly as straightforward and nice as you seem, I took something quite innocent the wrong way. I am sorry.”

“Well, thank you.”

“In my defence, I had been reliably informed that Rosina has a crush on you.” She looked straight at him, her mesmerising blue eyes wide. “But I’m in no position to criticise anyone for that.”

“Oh.” Dwight felt a smile creep across his face at that. He was about to speak – he felt like there were things he should say, should explain. That he should tell her how much he liked her, that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since that day he’d first laid eyes on her in the hospital canteen, which had now been elevated in his mind into the most romantic place in the world. However, before he could even being to formulate even a word of that, Caroline suddenly leant forward and pressed her lips to his. It was a soft, lingering kiss, Caroline sighing softly as she pulled away.

“And now, no doubt, you hate me.” She smiled wryly, her hair falling over her face as she glanced down. Dwight smiled back.

“And now, no doubt, I hate you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D
> 
> There might be a sequel in the future, or possibly a prequel about George & Elizabeth, so watch this space!


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